March 30: Mother Darko

Doom and gloom again today. I spoke to Father-to-be last night. This is bearing in mind I'd spent all morning at my hypno-birthing course, ON MY OWN (bar Bump but he wasn't very good company). And my evening at ante-natal yoga with lots of yummy mummies full of the aches and pains of pregnancy. I was in baby-mode. Unfortunately, FTB wasn't. But then, I suppose, what can I expect? He's not been around, has he? He's been in work. And probably the pub. And very definitely a different city.
Somehow, in our half-stilted, try-to-be-nice-to-each-other-and-not-talk-about-the-Indians chat, we get onto the subject of beer. At the mention of it, I am suddenly gasping for a pint. I love Ales. I love beer. Not fizzy horrid lager but the real stuff. At the moment though, I don't have beer in my cupboards. I don't have any booze in the house at all (bar the bottles of lethal liqueur I stole from my mum's house but they are still under lock and key in a box somewhere).
I've not stopped drinking entirely (can women really manage that?) but all I ever have is a few sips of wine while out at a restaurant, or a half-pint which I will largely leave.... (Ok, ok. I confess. One night - at my mother's party - I did gobble rather too much vodka jelly that didn't taste of vodka at all and was so so very very good... there we go, give me some hail mary's please).
Anyway, I stupidly tell him I'd love a beer right now. He replies: 'How much can pregnant women drink? They're not allowed to drink at all, are they?'
And, there we go, I'm immediately in a black-hole. Why? Defensive? Thinking he's judging me. Being a guilty-mother already. But I've done nothing wrong. I'm not gleefully drinking the bar dry and smoking rollies. I just, momentarily, wanted something other than water or apple juice on my palate. What's wrong with that? I wasn't actually going to go out and buy one. No doubt his pregnant sister has drunk nothing but detoxifying carrot and fuchsia tea for the past nine months.
But I think the real problem is the question (plus my tiredness). How much can a pregnant woman drink? Well, that - for any FTB - would have been fine to ask - in month one of pregnancy. What month am I again? Oh yes, seven. Seven months pregnant with his child and he asks, 'how much can you drink?'
This is - as I've said - bearing in mind that I'd spent virtually the whole day investing in me and Bump, the pregnancy, the birth, the scary beyond.
I just thought: 'You are clueless. You don't know anything that's going on. You are living in cloud-cuckoo land. And you are fundamentally extremely un-supportive.'
I told him all this, in a rather blunt fashion, then I got off the phone, cried like a baby, then feel asleep, red-eyed, headachy and full of snot.
Told the Big C (the counsellor) today. Told her I always (well, so very very often) feel let-down by FTB. Even before I got pregnant, I often felt it. He has so many other things pulling him away, pulling him in opposing directions. I think I have always wanted more, and never quite got it.
The Big C told me that, moving towards the end of pregnancy, women want more and more support. Even feisty independent ones like me. She said it was very natural for me to expect more from FTB and that it was understandable that I felt let-down. She put the phone-call misery down to a 'blip'.
I put her positive analysis of our relationship down to her being 'very optimistic'.